


It's Not Enough

by Mirror_ball



Category: TharnType the Series (TV), เกลียดนักมาเป็นที่รักกันซะดีๆ | TharnType: The Series (TV), เกลียดนักมาเป็นที่รักกันซะดีๆ | TharnType: The Series (TV) RPF
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:54:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24463096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirror_ball/pseuds/Mirror_ball
Summary: Mew goes off script again and this time Gulf finds it too much to handle.
Relationships: Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat/Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong
Comments: 25
Kudos: 338





	It's Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Just a tiny little oneshot inspired by the ridiculous happenings of the recent Shopee livestream, i.e. the punishment kisses. Was truly hoping that writing about it would help me get over it, but nope.

Gulf's barely given enough time to process what's going on before he feels a moist press of Mew's lipstick-coated lips on his cheek, just above his jawline, instead of his forehead where they were supposed to land. Mew doesn't wait for permission this time, just grabs him by the chin and tilts his head as he pleases, and there's something exciting about it, the thrill of the unknown causing Gulf’s breath to hitch in his throat. He attempts to cover his bewilderment with a grin and his trademark "hoho" laugh that follows, heart banging against his ribcage all the while, but he knows he's failing miserably. It's just fanservice, nothing they didn't do before, but then also nothing they did. Unlike today, Mew would always make sure to talk Gulf through their fanservice routine before going in front of the camera, never failing to obtain Gulf's consent to whatever skinship he plans to initiate, and asking Gulf to show more participation whenever he deems it necessary. Gulf appreciates everything about it--the fact that Mew is the clingy one, and the fact that he likes being the mastermind behind their interactions on camera. It certainly makes things easier for Gulf, who, even after all this time, can’t quite get the grasp on this whole fanservice thing. He blames it on his lack of previous experience in, well, being shipped with another male, and--quite frankly--on his inborn timidity. He applauds Mew for being able to make their skinship look so natural, even with Gulf's occasional stiffness and a ton of nervous giggles he produces as a manifestation of his awkwardness.

None of that matters now, though. Not with the burning sensation of Mew's mouth against his cheek, so familar, and yet so foreign. On instinct, he leans closer to the camera right when Mew pulls away, checking out the pink mark on his face. He angles his head to the side so he can marvel at the brightness of the color against his foundation-covered skin, secretly admiring the shape of the print. He likes Mew's lips, there's no question about it, especially how they always seem to tilt upward at the corners, both inviting and almost cocky. And now, with them marking his cheek, he kind of likes them even more.

He's surprised to realize how playful he is until the end of the show. With a smile that never seems to leave his face, he keeps looking straight into the camera, occasionally tilting his head slightly, just enough to get a glimpse of the reflection of his cheek. It's still there, the trace of Mew's lips, proof of his boldness and unpredictability. And for some inexplicable reason, it makes his smile grow even wider.

By the end of the show, Gulf's determined to do something about this whole situation. Which is why he builds up the courage to turn sharply toward Mew once the Shopee staff leave them alone in their dressing room, eyes narrowing in suspicious enquiry when he speaks, "What was that about?"

"Eh?" Mew manages, clearly taken off guard. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is this," he pokes his own cheek blindly, missing the trace of lipstick by mere millimeters.

"Ah, yeah," comes Mew's reply. Gulf waits for him to continue, but no other words follow. Instead, the familiar concoction of panic and anguish pours into his senior’s eyes. Gulf knows this expression all too well. He's now made Mew anxious, and that wasn't his intention at all.

"Don't give me that sorrowful look," he steps closer, watching Mew avert his gaze and go back to looking for his own clothes to change into. "I'm not mad. Just need to understand."

"Nothing to understand here. Fanservice, remember?" Mew’s tone is borderline angry now, and Gulf can't figure out the reason. Why is Mew getting so worked up so quickly? Sure, he’s not lying whenever he admits to being hotheaded in their interviews, but it usually takes much more than that to tick him off. Gulf likes to think he knows him well enough to be the judge of that.

"We always agree on the fanservice beforehand, remember?" He doesn't mean to sound as agitated as he does, but it's not his fault he's easy to provoke. Mew’s well aware of that quality of his, and he's clearly testing his patience with his attitude.

There's a sigh as Mew gives up searching for his own t-shirt. Resigned, he turns to face Gulf again. "Yes, you're right. I'm sorry."

"I said, I'm not mad!" Gulf has to fight the urge to stomp like a little kid. Is Mew even listening to him? Hands balled into fists at his sides, he takes a deep breath to calm himself down and avoid another outburst.

Mew gives him a helpless look. "What do you want me to tell you then?"

Yeah, what is it that he wants Mew to tell him, exactly? Well, for starters, maybe that Mew did what he did because he _wanted_ to, not because the fans were expecting it. "The truth," Gulf says in a small voice instead.

"You already know it," Mew sighs again, and it's so disheartening Gulf almost regrets ever starting this whole conversation. Almost.

"I want you to _say_ it." There's the kind of insistence in his voice that he knows makes people realize they don't stand a chance against his stubbornness. He hopes it'll work on Mew as well.

"You know I can't," Mew all but groans, and he looks so damn defeated Gulf wants to give up and fucking run, just to avoid seeing all that agony in Mew's eyes. He knows better than that, though, so he continues to stand there motionlessly, racking his brain for anything meaningful to say in response. 

A minute passes, and when he finally speaks, he's startled to hear his voice coming out all shaky. "What if I told you that you can?"

Holding his breath, he watches Mew's expression transform from that of reluctance to that of hesitancy, and Gulf can almost see the gears turning in his brain as he mulls over an answer. 

"Please, don't make me."

Delivered in a broken voice, the plea rings viciously in Gulf's ears. He's heard it many times before, Mew repeating it over and over again like a mantra that could magically help them deal with their problem, and Gulf fucking hates it. Even more so since he realized there was no escaping it, that problem of theirs, and pretending it didn't exist made no sense to him at all.

"How long are we going to keep this up?"

"Nong--"

"No, listen," Gulf can't help but raise his voice. "Maybe it's not a big deal for you, but it is for me. How do you just kiss me on the cheek when it's not even in the script, and then expect me to act like nothing happened?"

"I said I was sorry."

"I don't want you to be fucking sorry, don't you get it?"

"Fine, I'm not sorry, alright?" Mew throws up his hands in exasperation. "I'm never sorry about doing things like that to you—how can I be? But it's not right, you know it's not, and I really feel like shit for not being able to control myself even in front of the camera when people can actually see us. Sure, they'll think it's all fanservice and lap it up with joy, but how are we supposed to carry on? How am I supposed to face you afterwards?"

"Phi...," Gulf draws nearer, reaching out to wrap his hand around one of Mew's biceps in the hope of bringing him some sort of reassurance. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault.”

"Of course it is my fault. I know it's not easy being around me all the time, Nong. I'm far too clingy for your liking, far too bold with the skinship. And I'm really grateful to you for putting up with all of that. It's just--," he trails off, taking a deep breath and then letting the air out, as if preparing himself to receive the final blow. "It's just that sometimes it's not enough. I'm sorry."

Gulf has both of his hands wrapped around Mew's arms now, squeezing with abandon as he leans in to rest his forehead against Mew's shoulder. It's an adventurous move for a person as anti-social as Gulf, a person who initiates close to no physical contact on the daily--not just with Mew, but anyone, really. Startled by his own actions, he makes to pull away, but there's an arm suddenly curling around him, bringing him that much closer, and a palm patting the small of his back, and just like that, Gulf forgets what he was going to do, forgets everything that's not them. "I know, Phi. I know."

It's true. He knows it's not enough for Mew, he's known it for a long time, even though his senior has never admitted it before. It shows in the way Mew’s never satisfied with the tightness of their hugs, or in the way his hand always seeks his, wherever they are and whatever they do. It shows in the way he looks at him when he speaks, adoration and curiosity flaring in those dark, piercing eyes.

Relishing the feeling of Mew's arm around him, Gulf lets a couple more seconds pass before he tilts his head to the side, lips almost brushing the skin of Mew's neck when he speaks again, "I think you should know it's not enough for me either, Phi. Not nearly enough."

He can hear Mew's breath hitch in his throat at that, arm letting go of Gulf’s waist all too soon. When Mew's hands push lightly against his shoulders, he knows it's now or never, and he pulls away, coming face to face with his senior again. His heart is pounding like a fucking jackhammer as he looks into those pretty eyes he likes so much, this time full of emotion he's never seen there before. And somehow, they look even prettier now.

"Nong," Mew breathes, the tone of his voice making it sound almost like a warning. Gulf swallows, hard. "You can't do this to me."

"What if I want to?" Gulf asks, voice hardly above a whisper, before moving forward just enough to press their foreheads together. He tries to maintain eye contact at first, savouring the way Mew's gaze turns predatory, but soon the intensity of it becomes too much to handle, and his eyes flutter shut. "It's not enough, Phi. Even this close is not close enough."

It's not clear who closes what little distance there is between them, but Gulf likes to credit himself for it. It's interesting how Mew tastes nothing like Tharn, lips pliant but insistent against his own, a hint of promise almost palpable on his tongue. He accepts that promise with eagerness he would never suspect himself of, smiling into the kiss as Mew's hands move up to frame his face. It will never be perfect between them, not with their busy schedules, never-ending events, and fans' prying eyes constantly on them, but this, he thinks as Mew's lips grow more demanding against his own, is the closest to perfection he could ever dream of getting.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're looking for a poor soul to obsess over MewGulf with, feel free to give me a shout on twitter @ mirror_b_a_l_l.


End file.
